


Determined

by MagpieMinx (CardinalFox)



Series: Matched [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Breaking and Entering, Dominance, F/M, Marking, Naked Female Clothed Male, Nipple Play, Pet Names, Renamed Hux, Teasing, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 00:18:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13329492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CardinalFox/pseuds/MagpieMinx
Summary: You regretted parting ways with him.Then, he found you again.





	Determined

You're still thinking of the water from your bath, that deep dark blue, glitter swirling under the surface like stars.  You'd pushed the bubbles aside and taken a photo, adding filters to try and replicate the color, trying to diminish the reflection of your bathroom ceiling, to catch just the depth of darkness and shimmer of light. The photo still hadn’t compared, the way stills never did compare to life, flat and motionless.  It had just been so beautiful, like the night sky on the island-

You shut the door on that thought firmly, pain lingering at the edges. There’s no point in dwelling on things that could never happen, would never happen. You had your chance to say goodbye and, foolishly, you had squandered it in the hopes that it would make him reconsider, but he hadn't because this was real life and you were a normal girl, not a princess or a queen or a warrior or a sorceress. You lived your boring life of work from nine in the morning until five in the evening, books and tea and movies and brunch for one on the weekends. What would be the appeal for a man like Aren?  

There was none, not for a man who drank jager bombs one after the other with a woman under each arm and another still on his lap. Not for a man who spoke five languages and towered over the rest of the world, with his cunning smile and impossibly steady hand.

Suddenly your bathroom feels too big for you and you crave the solid feel of Aren’s chest against your back, the curve of his massive shoulders around your own as he bends, hands snaking around your waist.  The want of it leaves you cold and out of breath, so you brace your hands against the counter, lean your weight on it as your hair falls around your face.  You glance at yourself in the mirror, take in your bare face and untamed hair, staring and trying not to blame your reflection for your losses.

You straighten up abruptly, turn away from the mirror and leave the bathroom.  You flick the light switch deftly, blanketing you in darkness since you didn’t leave any lamps on in your loft before going to take your bath though the city lights do cast a glow through the window.  It doesn’t matter, you know where your bed is, with it’s mound of pillows and multiple blankets to curl up under, you don’t need to wait for your vision to adjust to reach it.

“Really, what would you do without me, Dove?  Your security is terrible.” 

You can’t help screaming, trying to bolt away from the hot arm suddenly coiled around your waist, pulling you back into an equally hot chest.  That same chest is shaking with laughter while you tremble with terror and try to catch your breath, to slow your panicked hyperventilation.  Aren goes on chuckling, his voice rich with amusement as he buries one hand in your hair, pulling it away from your neck and tilting your head, pressing his lips to the side of your throat.  His lips are as soft as you remember, maybe even softer, and you’re hyperaware of them and every other place where he’s touching you.  

“I-  I-” you try to start, but your voice fails you so instead you just ask, “How?”  The monosyllabic question is more of a wavering squeak than actual speech, but Aren just purrs against your ear.

“Who do you take me for, Little Bird?  The lock on your door is terrible, we’ll have to replace it,” he tells you, nipping the shell of your ear, “And your security system was off.  What good is it if you don’t use it?”

“Oh,” is the only thing that comes out of your mouth as the hand on your waist slides up and under the loose t-shirt you’re wearing.  It seems so huge, makes you feel so small as he envelopes one breast with his palm, squeezes just hard enough for it to ache.  You can’t stop yourself from moaning, leaning back into him.

“Needy, are we, Little Bird?” he asks, clicking his tongue, “You’re in luck, I like it when you’re needy for me.”  And with that he releases your breast and your hair and scoops you up bridal-style in his arms, striding forward and slowing only so that he won’t run into your bed.  

“When did you come in?” you asks breathlessly as he deposits you onto your mattress, reaching out to feel his chest.  It feels like he’s wearing a dress shirt, the collar open at the throat, probably with the sleeves rolled.  “I didn’t hear anything while I was in the bath.”

“You think I’d let you hear me?  That’s cute,” he says, laughing as he leans in to kiss you, his lips finding yours in the dark.  His tongue slides past your lips and teeth, aggressive as it rolls against your own.  His mouth is hungry, his teeth sharp as he nips your lip before kissing you again.  He pushes you back, and your head hits the edge of one of your pillows, and you scoot yourself up towards the head of your bed.  Aren follows, radiating heat in the darkness, laying another bruising kiss on your lips before licking and biting a hot trail down your neck.  

He uses his lips, his tongue, and his teeth, worrying the skin to make sure that he’ll leave marks behind.  He always loved doing that on the island, making sure everyone knew that once he moved into your tent, you were all his.  He breaks away to pull your shirt over your head, your bralette following suit, and then he gets between your thighs and pins your body to the mattress with his own as he bends his head to take one nipple into his mouth.  You groan and squirm, reaching up to wind your fingers in his dark blond hair, but he growls, disentangles your hands from his hair to pin them down to the bed.

He uses his teeth a lot at first and it stings, and you whine in protest, pulling at his hold on your hands.  After what must be a minute, he settles down to suckling and licking the tender flesh in his mouth.  He’s gentler now, and you hum with pleasure, back arching as he stays and stays and stays there, purring and sucking, rolling his tongue against the stiff peak.  Eventually he switches, but by then there’s an unusual, gentle warmth spreading from the center of your chest, reaching down between your legs.  

“Are you going to stay there all night?” you demand to hide your confusion at the foreign sensation growing, and he lets go of your nipple to laugh.

“Not tonight, Dove,” he purrs, pausing to kiss the little pebble of flesh, “but one of these days I will.  I’ll get my hands on you and play with them until they’re tender, and you’ll go to work and feel them inside your bra all day.  And then when you get home...”  He breaks off his little narrative to tug on your nipple with his teeth before suckling away the burn of the pain, curling his tongue around it.  You can’t keep yourself from moaning although you try, your back arching as you think about it.  Going to work with your tender, hypersensitive nipples rubbing against your bra-

“Oh!” you manage to get out as the warmth in your chest turns into a wave and you writhe under Aren.  You rock your hips up against his stomach, seeking friction in the middle of your unexpected orgasm, one leg bowing out and the other wrapping around his ribs and waist.  He goes on suckling on your breast, his hands tightening around your wrists while you struggle, keeping your hands pinned to the mattress.

You’re still breathing too fast as you settle down again, your orgasm ebbing.  Aren finally releases your breast and your hands, shifting upwards to kiss your lips.  Unlike before, this kiss is slow and deliberate.  Instead of trying to consume, he savors, and the difference makes you whimper against his mouth, dizzy with the heady heat of it.  His aggression sears you from the outside in, his gentleness makes heat bloom from the center of you and flush outward.

His hand is at your jaw when he pulls away and sighs against your mouth with satisfaction.  He drags his thumb across your lower lip, looking down at you.  You can see him now in what light there is, your eyes having adjusted.  He’s watching your face with immense satisfaction, hungry for your every reaction, and you can feel your slack-mouthed, mesmerized expression as his thumb runs over your lip again.  He smiles predatorily, purrs, “I could be gentle, Little Bird.”

“Don’t-” you say, but then you stop, confused.  Shouldn’t you want him to be gentle?  The problem is that after finally having his hands on you again, you don’t care whether he’s gentle or not, and you know instinctively that gentle isn’t his nature.  Just because he can be doesn’t mean that it’s his first impulse.

“Don’t worry, Dove, I know you like it when it hurts,” he says with a throaty laugh, “And it’s been long enough that it probably will.”  He makes his point by shifting, rolling the erection contained in his pants against you, reminding you of just how big his cock is.  You mewl helplessly under him, reaching up to wrap your arms around him, looking for another kiss.  He lets you pull his head down although he again keeps it soft and slow.

His hand leaves your jaw, and then he’s pulling away, folding your legs, pushing your knees back toward your shoulders as he hooks his fingers in your panties.  He drags the cotton and elastic over the curve of your ass and up your thighs, yanking it up and over your calves and ankles and feet.  He tosses them aside, presumably to land somewhere near the rest of your clothing, and then he’s leaning forward and urging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

You can feel the smooth leather of his belt against the backs of your thighs, a reminder that he’s still fully clothed while you’re fully naked, and you reach up to start unbuttoning his shirt.  His lips are on yours again as he grinds his groin down between your spread legs, right onto your pussy.  The fabric feels rough against the sensitive flesh of your pussy, but the friction is good too, and you shiver and arch, your hands faltering against his chest.  You whine, and he chuckles, licks your lips.

“Is your little cunt aching for my cock, Dove?” he purrs, “Do you need me to open you up?  Fuck you until your neighbors know my name?”  

You can’t make yourself say yes, can’t do much other than moan helplessly under him because you do want that, you want him opening you up and filling you, want him to make you his again.  There was no disputing that on the island: you were his and everyone knew it.  At the time you’d been mildly annoyed by the way everyone had reacted to it, but now you want it back, want the marks on your neck and chest and the unexpected purrs in your ear and his hand in the small of your back and his chest warming your back at night.  You fist your hands in his shirt and whimper, pull on the fabric and gasp, feeling like you might cry if he doesn’t fuck you now.

“Shhh, Little Bird,” he murmurs, shushing you and smiling wolfishly, “I’ll give you what you want so badly.”

“Please,” you finally manage to gasp, tightening your thighs around his waist and pulling, “Aren-   _ Please _ !”

“Shhhhhhh,” he says again, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth and nuzzle your cheek, laughing when you groan and squeeze his waist again.  You love and hate how in control he is right now, how out of control you feel, the way it feels like you can’t help being out of control, but it’s always like this with him.  

He’s nipping at your jaw, pressing wet little kisses to your skin as his hand snakes between your bare pussy and the fly of his pants.  He pulls his belt from the loop, tugs the buckle open, unfastens the button and unzips the zipper, and you feel every motion of his hand, his knuckles rubbing against your cunt, crushing your folds against you and dipping into the valley between so that his knuckles slide slickly against you.  You can feel yourself clenching and unclenching in anticipation, your breathing light and shallow and uneven, your head spinning-

Your breath catches and then you keen when something thick and hot and heavy comes to rest against your pussy, your thighs tightening around Aren’s waist with renewed strength now that his cock is right against you.  He chuckles again, his cock is sliding against you, and then the blunt head is settled against you.  He applies light pressure, just enough to lodge the curve of the head of his cock in your slick, sticky opening, and you find your arms around his neck, the back of his collar twisted in your hands.  

“Ready, Dove?” he asks you, one hand stroking your thigh, repositioning it a little bit higher.  You nod breathlessly in response, and then he’s pressing into you and you’re throwing your head back and letting out a little cry because it  _ burns _ .  It’s been too long and Aren’s cock is so thick, stretching you further than you have in months.  Your fingers are no comparison and the vibrator you rarely use is no thicker than a pair of your fingers is.  Aren’s cock, you remember distractedly, is so thick that you can’t quite get your hand around it, so it’s no wonder that you’re struggling to breathe through the sensation.

Aren grunts and withdraws a little, then pushes even more of his cock into you and you clamp down around him instinctively, shuddering at the feeling of being forced open around something.  Unexpectedly, Aren drops his face into your hair and groans, nosing his way down the side of your face to your ear to say, “You’re so  _ tight _ , Little Bird, did you even touch yourself while I was away?”

“Yes,” you pant, still trying to adjust, but Aren keeps pressing more of his cock into you and you’re starting to feel dizzy because just how big is he again?  You felt him through his pants, and he’s fucked you before, so why does it feel like you overestimated how much you could take?

“With what, your fingers?” he teases you, apparently having recovered from how tightly you’re wrapped around him, “These little fingers?”  He plucks one of your hands from his collar without too much effort, pressing down on your fingers with his thumb.  “You thought these were enough for you after  _ me _ ?”

The taunt awakens something inside you, unleashing a flare of resentment as you shoot back, “Well, you weren’t exactly here, were you?”  There’s more venom in the question than you meant to be there, but then Aren snaps his hips and he’s fully buried in you and your mouth drops open as you jerk, your lungs emptying out in a single exhale.

“Don’t worry, Little Dove,” Aren purrs, letting go of your hand and wrapping his fingers around your jaw and turning your face up towards his.  He drops a kiss on your lips and he smiles devilishly in the light from the windows, “I won’t leave you lonely again.”

You’re about to reply when he withdraws and thrusts himself home, stealing whatever you were going to say and leaving a rushing mass of heat in its absence that swirls under your skin and electrifies your nerves.  You find both your hands curled in Aren’s shirt again, pulling at it as he fucks you, hard and steady.  You’re gasping and moaning brokenly, trying to turn your head aside, but then his grip on your jaw tightens and he  _ growls _ .

“No, no, Birdie, I want you to look at me while I make you cum, understand?”  Your eyes dart up to his face reflexively, but you find him staring back at you and it makes something in your stomach drop out.  You squirm under him, trying to pull away, but the attempt is weak when his hips are still pistoning into you, stretching you open around his cock again and again.  It feels almost too intimate to see Aren  _ seeing _ you like this, watching your pleasure, waiting for you to come undone under his sharp, voracious gaze.

“That’s a good girl,” he says as soon as you stop fighting his hold on your jaw, but then as he leans in to kiss you, your eyes slide away from him and he growls again, “Keep your eyes on me, Dove.”

“But-” you start to protest, but that’s as far as you get as he adjusts over you, freeing his other hand and getting it over your pubic bone.  Another shift of his weight over you and there’s a finger rubbing a hard little circle over your clit that makes your thighs shake, liquid heat building in a knot in your stomach and threatening to burst at any moment.  You can hear your moans pitching higher, turning desperate, interspersed with “please” and “Aren”.

“That’s right, good girl, Little Bird, you’re going to cum for me, aren’t you?” he purrs, stroking the side of your face with the pad of his thumb, “You’re going to soak my cock and scream my name for me like the good girl I know you are.  Cum for me.”  Between the finger on your clit, his cock pumping in and out of your cunt, his hand on your jaw, his eyes on your face, and that command, it’s too much and you feel yourself unraveling at the seams.  You try to hold his gaze, but then you’re lost in the heat and sensation overwhelming you, flashing through your body like lightning.

You might have screamed, you’re not entirely sure, but when you find yourself blinking up at Aren, his hips have slowed and he’s praising you, “That my good Little Bird, sweet little Dove cumming on my cock, that’s right, come back to me now.  Mmmmmm, there she is.”  His smirk is indulgent, more satisfied than smug, and he’s stroking the side of your face again.  You’re still breathing much too hard, and when you try to speak, it takes you two attempts to make an unintelligible sound.  Aren leans in to kiss you instead, his mouth hot on yours, and you moan quietly against his lips, exhausted from this last orgasm.

“Was that good?” he purrs after he pulls away, “Was it nice to cum that hard again now that I’ve found you?  Did you miss me?”

“Yes, Sir,” you sigh, your breath hitching as he buries his cock in you and grinds it as deep into you as he can make it go.  Your back arches and you find your hands wrapped around his shirt collar again, pulling as your thighs shake.

“Do you remember what I said on the night we met about what happens to girls like you?” he asks, and you’re so tired and you just want to fall asleep, but Aren circles his hips again and you yelp when he follows that up with a sharp little snap of his hips.

“You said-  you said that-”

“That I fill them up with cum,” he finishes for you, smiling broadly enough that you can see his teeth glinting, “Are you ready for that to happen again, Birdie?  Do you want me to fill your little cunt up with cum?”

“Yes,” you moan, unintentionally drawing the word out and trying to clamp your thighs around his waist.  The memory of previous times, of how Aren left you dripping cum, filthy wet, turned your pussy into a cream pie rushes over you and makes you tighten around his cock.  “Yes, please!”

You catch a glimpse of his smirk, and it’s shift as he lets go of your jaw, pulls out.  When he thrusts, it hits you hard, like a battering ram, and it knocks the breath from your lungs.  The pace is still steady, but it’s so fast that you feel almost like he’s holding you wide open, his cock burying itself and withdrawing again and again so fast that you feel like your body isn’t closing properly around him.  Part of you wonders if you’ve stretched so completely that quickly for him, the other part of you is pulling on his shirt so you can muffle your cries in his shoulder.  He drops onto you, burying his face in your hair so that you can feel him panting and grunting against your scalp.

The next orgasm sneaks up on you without much warning.  There’s no build up, just the sudden feeling of standing on a precipice, inches away from falling, a feeling that nearly makes you panic.  You cling to Aren, who growls when you claw at his shoulder with one hand, and then you’re melting under him, your thighs falling open so that he can plunge even deeper into your core.  Unexpectedly, he groans into your hair, his hips jerking spastically, and then he goes still.

For a moment you’re relieved that he’s finished too, but then all you feel is a bone deep weariness that makes you sink into your bed, unable to even think about moving.  Aren pushes himself up, and then presses a sweet kiss to your forehead as he pulls out.  You blink up at him, startled, half-anticipating something more.  He’s rarely finished after only a single orgasm, likes to play with you and usually cum a second time on or in some other part of your body.

“You look wrecked, Dove,” he says with an indulgent chuckle, and you let your hands fall from his shirt and clumsily reach up to try to fix your hair.  He stops you after a moment, flicking your hands aside before stroking your cheek.  He’s looking down at you with more fondness than you expected.  There’s something intimate about the moment that brings heat rushing to your cheeks.  He’s still smiling as he leans down to rest his forehead against yours though you can’t hold his gaze and have to turn your face away.

“Awwww, still so shy?” he coos in your ear, his lips brushing against the curve of it before he nips it with his teeth.

“Stop that,” you groan, pushing at his chest with your forearm.  It’s no more effective than it was the first time you slept with him, and he laughs quietly as he shifts and lays himself down on the mattress beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you up against him face-to-face.  You can feel his still-hard cock against your thigh and the buckle of his belt against your hip.  You realize, still hazed with the afterglow of orgasm, that he’s still dressed, and you sigh and push against his chest with both hands.

“Can’t we at least both be naked?” you complain petulantly, and Aren must think this very amusing because he grins, his teeth glinting in the not-quite dark.

“I suppose that might be more comfortable, wouldn’t it, Birdie?” he says nonchalantly, “But I’d have to let go of you to do that.”

“You made it all this time without me, I think you can survive another thirty seconds,” you sigh, “And I don’t want to get stabbed with your belt.  I’ve been avoiding getting a tetanus shot for a while.”

The detail about avoiding the shot makes him laugh, but he obliges you, letting go of your waist and sitting up on the edge of the bed to shuck his shirt, pants, socks and shoes.  The contents of his pants pockets jingle along with his belt when the fabric hits the floor, but then he’s pulling back the covers of your bed under you and sliding between the sheets next to you.  It’s impossible not to push yourself closer and huddle against his chest because he’s so warm.  He pulls up the cover before draping his arm over your waist, stroking your lower back gently with his fingers.

“How long are you staying?” you manage to mumble, although the soft touch combined with his body heat are lulling you powerfully into a sleepy state that’s difficult to fight.  Still, a part of you needs to know how long you’re going to have him before he loses interest, before he decides to go again and leaves you with only your memories and that aching longing that goes heart-deep.

“Don’t know,” he responds, sounding flippant, “But I was thinking indefinitely.  This place is big enough for two, one and a half should be just fine.”  The last part is delivered in a familiar teasing tone that you can hardly register as you blink because did he just tell you that he was staying?

“Are we splitting rent?” you ask, your mouth voicing practical realities while your emotions try to recover from the shock, “I think we need to go grocery shopping tomorrow.”

“ _ We _ ,” Aren repeats, sounding positively tickled by the idea, “Yes,  _ we _ should go grocery shopping tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I get an itch for this Aren and this is the product of many itches. Thought I'd share it for those who enjoyed Aren the first time around. K2 and I are still planning another fic for this series, hopefully we'll get around to it soon! Comments and kudos are always appreciated, and you can still find me magpieminx on tumblr.


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